


Suspire

by Aimryax



Category: Call of Duty (Video Games), Call of Duty: Modern Warfare (2019)
Genre: Character Study, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, M/f in my house?? Its more likely than you think, trans!alex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:14:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23264524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aimryax/pseuds/Aimryax
Summary: suspire/səˈspʌɪə/breathe.
Relationships: Farah Karim/Alex (Call of Duty:Modern Warfare)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 19





	Suspire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CelestialFox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelestialFox/gifts).



> As always thanks for @llanxeotis for the beta/proofread.
> 
> Also @CelestialFox has her HC of Alex as Polish American and that is now canon!
> 
> EDIT: Lad’s alive this is no longer an AU.

After so many blues and whites, closed rooms and unbearable treatment. Any other sight is very much welcoming that is not bland and depressing of life and death.

From all the places he could have went to first, this was his first landing—well, first landing after _Alex_ became KIA in Georgia; it was the starting point of all of this, of everything.

Gentle wind blowing the grass, giving the sound of slight rustling, chirps of various animals and the simple life of so many people just living. If someone were to tell him that those were the sounds that will make him soften, he’ll probably scoff at how ridiculous that sounded.

But here he was.

Just like the fact that he is living with his own body still relatively intact. In some places and dossiers... not so much, didn’t get the luxury of knowing his real status.

Yellow of discomfort turned into orange of warmth, the reds that were on the streets were of banners and traditions reclaimed, a culture rebuilt and hope brightened of the country he once roamed with dread.

He came in with heavy gear and precise aim, fresh agent ready to be deployed and assist by the orders, being forced to kneel down in the atmosphere of unsettling danger from every corner and justified mistrust; all pawns to a supposedly bigger picture.

 _Return_ , he wanted to return to remain at what his heart says about the right cause, and she granted him what he wished for giving that detonator, it’s time to return the favour of many others.

Returning again but for the second time, he wore the light shirt that let in wind touch his healing body, foot bare crossed on the ground filled with colourful comforters, the sunlight seeping in giving a pleasant warm feeling to a stiff body and the closed wound of his amputated leg.

And the surprise of seeing the red waist scarf.

The closest item he had that could resemble a weapon was the spoon in his teacup. And even so; the only one who could wield it was the Commander that stood by the open window, the same owner of the scarf.

Almost like the first time, proud, unnerving and an unbreakable force she was and remains to be; but the hidden stress and grief was so faded away, it was even barely there. Face only concerned about the light mischief of the people of Urzikstan and nothing else.

Braid had the permission to be a bit looser, military equipment discarded somewhere with no fear; Farah stood looking in contentment at the sight of her country liberated since decades of effort and pain.

Even if the work was only hers, returning to her hometown happily, his own choice was to come back and see it as well, even with unhealed burns he still insisted on seeing it on crutches and no defences.

And he was very glad he annoyed them into letting him go.

Perhaps Farah heard his thoughts—or simply doing the act; turning her head to him with that damn smile. Taking slow steps until she reached to him, kneeling down to ground level for brown eyes to meet with blue ones.

Hand reached out to touch a healing cheek, sensitive skin feeling the smallest of scars on her fingers, a touch that felt almost divine.

Could’ve sworn he felt her smile through the radio at their last interaction, even as he did what he believed in, he was willing to lay down his life knowing that he’ll be a factor, not a pawn, in making people like Farah live in a better place.

Maybe the small unexpected bonus was his heart fluttering at the smallest hints of softness towards her.

It was so ridiculous of what he had become.

It was—still is a miracle. Barely breathing under all that deadly rubble, filled with burns and marks and scars, but classified as KIA on his own wishes, he doesn’t want this anymore, tired of being dangled and tugged.

Despite it back then, as his organs screamed in suffocation from the smoke and fire, as his limbs were tangled in wrong positions, as his chest was supposed to be at its tightest; yet there was the first time he felt something new.

Inhaling with a slightly open mouth, not in a desperate attempt to Inhale, but to savour something.

Smile remains at its highest, accent still there, happy at his state of living but also, at the state of his own personal freedom.

“ _Damian _.”__

__Exhale._ _

__Damian could breathe again._ _


End file.
